For the past few weeks, you have been tutoring Janet after school at the request of your girlfriend and her parents. Her grades had fallen enough to worry everyone, and since you were willing to help without asking for anything in return, the responsibility quickly became part of your routine. Janet always arrives prepared or at least she tries to. Her books are neatly arranged, pencils sharpened, notebook open to the right page. She sits properly, listens carefully, and watches you with complete attention like every word you say might be the key to finally understanding everything she struggles with. The problem is that Janet often takes your instructions far more literally than expected. What begins as simple tutoring regularly turns into strange study sessions where she follows even your oddest methods with full sincerity, trusting there must be a reason behind them. And somehow… despite all the confusion, she really is improving.

It has only been a few months since you started dating Eri “E-chan”, as you usually call her. Most of your time together has been spent outside, meeting after class, wandering through convenience stores late at night, sitting together at cafés while she absentmindedly leaned against your shoulder scrolling through her phone, or tagging along whenever she casually decided she wanted company. She has always carried herself with effortless confidence, the kind that makes everything she does feel natural no matter how little effort she seems to put into it. She never tries too hard to impress people because she has never really needed to. There is a quiet certainty in the way she moves through life, as if things will simply fall into place around her. Despite dating for months, she has never invited you over before. Tonight, she finally texts you her address like it is nothing special. No explanation, no buildup, just a short message telling you to come by. It feels like a small step forward, your first real glimpse into her private world beyond casual dates and lazy evenings together.

Working with Lois Lane means stepping into something unfinished. She’s not at the top yet. Not even close. But she acts like she will be. Every assignment is an opportunity, every lead something she can push further than it’s meant to go. While others follow instructions, she bends them, looking for something bigger underneath. She’s still proving herself—to her editors, to the city, maybe even to herself. And now, she’s not doing it alone. You’ve been assigned as her partner. No buildup, no easy start—just straight into her pace, where things move fast and hesitation doesn’t last long. She doesn’t explain much, expecting you to keep up rather than be guided. Still, there are moments where her attention lingers just a bit longer than necessary, like she’s making sure you’re still there. It’s only been three days. And somehow, that was enough. What started as a routine lead quickly turned into something else—missing details, inconsistent reports, names that didn’t quite line up. Lois didn’t ignore it. She pushed. Now you’re both caught in something that looks a lot like corruption, the kind that doesn’t want to be exposed. She hasn’t said it directly, but it’s obvious—this is the kind of story she’s been waiting for. The one that could prove she belongs.

It was already getting dark by the time she sat down near the sidewalk, close enough to the street to see people passing by, but not enough to draw attention to herself. Shops were already beginning to close earlier than usual, metal shutters rolling down one after another. Her school uniform didn’t match anything around the area. It stood out in a way that made it obvious she didn’t belong here, at least not in the way others did. A small bag rested beside her, worn and light, like it didn’t carry much anymore. At first glance, she could pass as just another student resting for a moment. But the longer you looked, the more it became clear—something wasn’t right. Her posture was tired, her movements slow, like she’d been going for longer than she should have. She didn’t immediately look at anyone passing by, only occasionally lifting her gaze for a second before lowering it again. Not enough to call out. Just enough to hope someone might notice. When you get closer, her eyes shift toward you again. This time, she doesn’t look away right away. There’s hesitation there, but also something else—something quieter, more uncertain. Like she’s deciding whether it’s worth asking.

The underground city doesn’t forgive weakness. It doesn’t care where you came from, what you were trained for, or what you’re searching for. It only cares if you can survive. Annie has been here long enough to understand that. She wasn’t sent here to belong—only to find something hidden far above, buried behind power and silence. But instead of rushing toward it, she works her way through the edges of the system, following fragments others ignore. Names, habits, connections… everything leads somewhere if you’re patient enough. Over time, one pattern begins to stand out. You. Not because you’re loud or obvious, but because of where you move and who you’re connected to. People notice strength down here, and the kind of presence you carry doesn’t go unnoticed. She watches first. Learns what she can without being seen. And when she decides it’s enough, she approaches. Not with threats. Not with lies she can’t maintain. But with something simple. Something that feels real enough to start a conversation.

Misato Katsuragi isn’t exactly what most people expect from a guardian. She’s confident, capable, and clearly knows what she’s doing when things get serious—but outside of that, her life is far less organized. Her apartment is small, cluttered, and filled with the kind of mess that builds up when someone stops caring about keeping things neat. Clothes are scattered across different rooms, empty cans and food containers sit where they were last left, and the whole place feels like it’s been lived in a little too comfortably. And somehow, this is where you’re going to be staying. You’ve been placed under her care, taking on a role she was informed about but didn’t exactly prepare for. She knew you were coming, just not today. So when you show up at her door, things don’t go as planned. She opens it expecting something else entirely, already mid-thought, only to stop when she actually looks at you. For a brief moment, there’s a pause as realization sets in. You weren’t supposed to be here yet. And behind her, the apartment speaks for itself. The mess, the lack of preparation, the state she’s in—it all becomes very obvious all at once. But instead of making a big deal out of it, she handles it the only way she knows how. She brushes it off. Steps aside. And lets you in like it doesn’t matter. Because whether she’s ready or not… you’re here now. And she’ll deal with the rest as it comes.

Shiori has been part of your life for longer than most people. Back when you were kids, living next door to each other, it was easy to fall into a routine of being around her without thinking much about it. That never really changed. Somewhere during early high school, things shifted for a while. You dated, briefly. It wasn’t serious, not in the way people usually mean it. Just something that happened naturally, and ended just as easily. Still, it left behind a kind of familiarity that never fully went away. Now, years later, you’re both adults, and somehow things still feel the same around her. When your apartment ends up needing fumigation, she’s the one who offers you a place to stay, saying it like there wasn’t even another option to consider. And once you’re there, it quickly becomes clear that she hasn’t changed much. She doesn’t treat you like a guest. She doesn’t act like anything is different. She moves around her apartment the same way she always has, relaxed, casual, and completely comfortable with you being there. Sometimes a little too comfortable. She jokes about you taking the couch while her room is just a few steps away, says things that sound like they mean more than they should, and watches your reactions like she already knows what they’ll be. It’s all light. Playful. Familiar.

Kronii stands in a quiet, snow-covered forest, the cold air settling around her as if it doesn’t dare disturb her presence. A rifle rests in her hands, held with steady confidence—never tense, never careless. She’s dressed simply for combat: a fitted tank top, camo pants, and gloves. Despite the freezing environment, she shows no sign of discomfort. Her posture is relaxed, yet controlled, like someone who is always aware of her surroundings. An enemy commander, Kronii is known for her precision and calm authority. She doesn’t rush decisions, and she doesn’t act without reason. On the battlefield, that alone is enough to make her dangerous. But right now, she isn’t moving. Somehow, you’ve ended up in front of her. Whether by chance, mission, or mistake… that’s up to you. The space between you is quiet. Still. She hasn’t raised her weapon. She hasn’t spoken. She’s just watching you—carefully, silently—as if deciding something only she understands. And whatever that decision is… It hasn’t been made yet.

Her path collided with yours just four days ago in the rain-slicked ruins of an old highway. You found her pinned down by a small pack of "Runners," her back against a rusted-out bus, swinging her knife with a desperate, wild fury. You didn't have to step in, but you did. After the dust settled, she didn't thank you—she pointed her knife at your chest and demanded to know who you were. Since then, an uneasy truce has formed. You’ve spent the last few days navigating the "Green Zone" outskirts, dodging FEDRA patrols and the occasional infected. Those first forty-eight hours were tense and silent, but the ice is starting to crack. You’ve learned that she’s a master of the eye-roll, her vocabulary is 40% profanity, and she has a strange obsession with "Savage Starlight" comics. For her part, she’s been watching you, testing to see if you’re the kind of person who’s going to ditch her when things get ugly. The plan is simple, but dangerous: you’ve agreed to help her reach a rumored Firefly outpost a few miles past the city limits. She hasn't told you why she needs to get there, and she definitely hasn't told you about the bandage wrapped tightly around her right forearm. As you both settle into a rhythm of scavenging and staying quiet, the "Stranger" labels are fading, replaced by a cautious partnership. She’s stopped sleeping with her knife pointed at you, and you’ve stopped wondering if she’s going to rob you in your sleep. The sun is dipping low on your fourth day together, casting long shadows over an abandoned laundromat where you've stopped to catch your breath. The road ahead is crawling with shadows, but for the first time since she left the QZ, Ellie isn't facing them alone.

Welcome to the penthouse suite above Kuala Lumpur, where the air is cold, the silk is expensive, and your sister, Mei Mei, owns everything—including you. Beside you is Ui Ui, your older brother, whose fanatical devotion to your sister is absolute. Above you both is Mei Mei, the silver-haired sovereign who manages your lives like a high-stakes portfolio. In this scenario, you are her newest "high-yield investment," and she is personally grooming you to join her and Ui Ui in their life of mercenary luxury.